


Episode Zero - You Are Not My Saviour

by MusicalRaven



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Gore, Bloodlust, Evil Dean Winchester, Gen, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-15 20:14:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2241951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicalRaven/pseuds/MusicalRaven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has spent forty years in hell, ten of which he's mangled souls beyond all recognition. Now, something has come to save him. But Dean doesn't want to be saved...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Episode Zero - You Are Not My Saviour

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the beginning of a S4 AU I started a while ago where Cas was born human, and Dean became a demon instead of becoming the righteous man. This is just the prolouge, but if I manage to, I'll post up the first 'episode' when I finish.

**10 years ago, in Hell…**

 

Dean didn't want to be saved. He grinned as he dig his knife into the flesh of another screaming victim. He'd been off the rack for ten years now, and by now, he was Alistair's little pet. Brought up to torture, he wasn't squeamish anymore. Not afraid to pry off a living souls skin and carve out their insides as they screamed bloody murder. He laughed now. Laughed at the screams. The blood. He laughed, and it felt good.

So the day the angel came, he'd met it with fire and death. He'd already disfigured his current soul beyond recognition when he heard the cries. They weren't the screams of agony and torture he was used to hearing, but of surprise and anger. He glanced around, trying to isolate the sounds, but failing. Growling to himself, he took out his frustration on the pathetic creature in front of him, hands squeezing tight around his heart as Dean tore into his rib cage. He treasured the screams and watched as his victim disappeared, and another took it's place.

"Hello there, little girl." He purred, leaning forward the stroke the cheek of a young girl. She appeared only twelve or thirteen, but Dean didn't care. He stuck his face in hers and licked the sweat off her cheek. She moaned as she squirmed, the hooks digging into her supple flesh, and Dean grinned. Today was a good day. His mind was far away from his time on earth. Fully concentrating on his duties. Yes, he still had days when he hesitated, grief and repulsion leaping into his mind. But those were his loathsome bad days, and they became fewer and fewer as time passed. He looked forward to the day they'd all disappear. Gone for good. He'd be whole, for once. Complete. Nothing like the pathetic piece of trash he had once been.

As he reached for his favorite knife, the cries came again, and he whirled around, searching. His eyes caught a flash of light before it disappeared. He jumped back, eyes wide. Light was non existent down here. The only light there was flowed in the fires that burnt the flesh off of the bodies of the dead, making them scream in agony. This light, though. This light was like that of sunlight and high beams and stars that hung in the sky by the glowing moon. It was memory and feeling. For the first time down here in hell, just for a moment, Dean didn't just feel regret. He felt pain. Pure emotional pain at what he'd become. And it hurt.

He shook his head, the pain dulling as fast as it had come. He didn't regret a moment down here. His soul did, and now more than ever, he wished he could rip the thing to ribbons. He didn't need it anymore, so why was it still here?

Angrily, he turned back to the girl, who was still staring wide-eyed at where the light had been. Hate drummed in his veins and in a flash he was flush against her, knife slicing straight down her arm. He could feel the vibrations of her scream and he licked his lips, turning up his head to face her. Her eyes were wide in terror. He grinned and stuck the knife in again, twisting. Her scream was longer this time. Hoarse. He left the knife in.

He'd carved her up pretty good, his anger dimming but not even close to leaving, when he spotted the light again. Pure and unfiltered, it flitted by his vision. His anger flared again as he tried to avoid looking for it. Just stuck the knife deeper in her rib cage and tried to focus on her groans and screams of agony. To enjoy this. But as the light reached his vision again, he couldn't. He just couldn't. He looked again, and his eyes went wide. The light wasn't just moving around, flying past his vision. It was in front of him, all glow and magnificence.

Dean fell to his knees, awestruck. The light was huge. Too big for him to comprehend. It moved with a purpose, but without form. Boundless but limited. So enraptured was Dean, he forgot all about the girl hanging from the rack. Forgot about hell. His mind went to earth. His brother and him sharing a beer, him and Bobby tackling a case. His mother, kissing his forehead. His father giving him a hug. All his happy memories surfaced and he stared, unblinking, into the light of day.

The light came forward, slowly but deliberately. It stopped inches from Dean, almost seeming to appraise him. Dean swallowed, that pain surfacing again as he remembered everything and damn it it hurt. He didn't want it to hurt. He--he--

He blinked and narrowed his eyes. He didn't want to leave. He wrestled his soul into place, trying not to gasp at the effort, and sneered at the intruder. "Why are you here?" He pushed the words past his cracked lips, anger pulsing in the words.

The light just sat there, unmoving. Unblinking would be the term if this--this--thing was human, or anything like a human. It stood unblinking, and as it did, Dean's anger only grew.

"What do you want?" He shouted. Sammy was smiling at him now, shaking his head. He was blurred and Mary stood in his place, saying "Dean. Dean honey, it's time for bed-"

Dean shook his head violently. "Stop it! Stop it! You have no right--" He gasped. Waves of physical pain hit now, as his chest was ripped to shreds. His hands scrambled over it. He barely noticed his hands were free of blood. He just continued to gasp.

The light came nearer. Too close. The pain flared white hot. Pure and right. Too pure. Too right. Dean's eyes started to water and he continued to gasp. "Go away." He pleaded quietly. "Go away."

_Hush._

The one word rebounded in his brain and suddenly he was still. He closed his eyes, his body tense but waiting. He didn't know what to think. What to want. He was trapped. Unsure. Caged. Confined to this spot, and there was nothing he could do about it. The terror stung him, inside and out. He just wanted everything to go away.

When it didn't, he hesitantly tried to open his eyes. A flare of white hot something came so close to him that he screwed his eyes shut fast and fought the urge to scream. It was just too much. Too hot.

‘I am here to save you, Dean Winchester.’ The voice shouted as the light came even closer, and Dean was sure it would blind him. _I will save you. Save you. Save you._ The words pulsed like his anger. They curled together and suddenly, Dean could move. 

He scrambled away from the light. He knew he couldn't fight it. Hell, he wasn't even sure he could stop it. But he could try. He didn't want to go back to the world of misery and pain. He didn't want the hole in his heart to come back, gaping and bleeding. He was satisfied here. Happy? He didn't know. But he was satisfied, and he was damn sure that was enough.

"Leave me alone, you son of a bitch." He said, eyes still screwed shut. The light was too bright, too close, and he didn't trust his memories not to assault him again. "Leave me alone. I don't want to be saved."

The light almost seemed to pause--A second? A millisecond?-- before it spoke again. "You are to be saved."

He felt it surge forward. He let out a hoarse, "Wait!" before it was upon him, so hot and so consuming.

He screamed.

And the light screamed too.

Dean's eyes popped open in shock. The light was screeching. Dozens of trails of black smoke blotted out the light, one by one, swirling around it as they did. The light thrashed violently, but the demons held on, more and more swarming. Dean watched, horrified, as the light seemed to dim lower and lower. It let out a final scream, loud enough to make Dean cover his ears, before it went out completely.

Dean gasped, eyes still wide, as the demons dispersed. He gathered himself shakily to his feet and blinked rapidly. Unsure of what happened, he glanced over at the rack, but the woman was gone. Everything was gone.

He was standing in a small room, devoid of any sort of light. In a corner stood a familiar face, grimacing at him.

"Alistair." Dean breathed, sighing in relief. "What the fuck just happened?"

Alistair strode forward, tilting his head to the side and smiling tight lipped. "It seems an angel got past our defenses."

"An angel?" Dean said.

"It seemed to be coming after you," He continued. "Pity. It wasted it's breath."

"What happened to it, exactly?"

"It's dead." Alistair said. "Gone. Good riddance, I say. No one wants a filthy thing like that down here."

Dean nodded, still a bit lost, but focusing. "And my pet?"

"Gone to another rack with another torturer." Alistair smiled. "I thought you might appreciate a fresh one after that ordeal." He clicked his tongue.

"Thank you." Dean said with a grin.

"You're welcome, Dean. You're welcome."

Dean paused, eyes narrowed. "Sir, if I may, how did so many demons so efficiently kill that," He paused again. "Angel?"

"I called them, of course. Heard your pleas." He shook his head. "Really, Dean. You? Pleading? That was not something I wanted to hear."

"It won't happen again." Dean said and Alistair smiled.

"Indeed it won't, pet." He walked forward and patted Dean's cheek. "Now, make daddy proud and go make that boy scream."


End file.
